


Winston Takes the Night Off and Doesn't Worry About It

by tanyart



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Buffoonery, Gen, M/M, Post-Recall, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 02:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13471578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: McCree and Zenyatta go on a mission to rescue Genji. (Winston isn't actually there.)





	Winston Takes the Night Off and Doesn't Worry About It

Of all the people to call McCree in the middle of the night, Zenyatta hadn’t been too high up on the list. With Recall initiated _and_ Overwatch having somehow roped McCree into the mix, he would’ve expected a more familiar face like Winston or Lena contacting him like this. Zenyatta, while not officially allied with the new Overwatch group, keeps close enough ties that McCree isn’t too suspicious of anything much. Genji ought to have been with the omnic on their somewhat secretive mission—no Overwatch needed, according to them—but McCree has a passing thought of Genji trying to contact him through Zenyatta’s comm. Wishful thinking, maybe.

He stares at the blinking ID around his wrist and sets his coffee cup down on the counter. It’s his second cup at midnight so he’s a little relieved by the distraction from another sleepless night. McCree flicks his wrist to answer the call.

Sure enough, Zenyatta’s face projects from the band. The connection is sturdy enough for McCree to make out the tiny dents and scratches over Zenyatta’s face. New ones, by the looks of them. Something appears to be smoking in the background. McCree hopes it isn’t Zenyatta backside.

“Hello, Mr. McCree. I hope I have not interrupted anything.”

“Good early mornin’,” McCree replies, a touch amused. “And naw, been doing nothing but sittin’ around waiting for something exciting to come up. What can I do for you?”

Zenyatta pauses. Behind him, something explodes, briefly illuminating his metal face, and then the light fades back to darkness, presumably as Zenyatta starts floating away at speed. “If you can offer it, I would appreciate some help in accompanying me to an anti-omnic stronghold to retrieve…”

McCree catches on. He leans forward, grinning. “Genji? Is it Genji? Did he get himself in trouble again?”

“You seem excited,” Zenyatta observes. For some reason he sounds the tiniest impressed before his tone slides into the the mildest form of reproach. “I believe he is mostly unharmed, if that is what you are wondering. Forgive me if that wasn’t a primary concern of yours.”

McCree laughs, keeping Zenyatta on the line as he heads out the common room to his own quarters. “Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t happy about Genji being in danger, but I am glad for the—hm, _opportunity_ to rescue him. We’re keeping a tally, you see.”

There is a long silence. McCree isn’t sure if it means Zenyatta disapproves or simply doesn’t have anything else to say.

He adds, modest, “If I rescue him this round, I’ll be winning.”

Zenyatta’s headlights flicker. It looks like the twinkling form of laughter. “Then I am glad to have such enthusiastic help.”

“Yup, that’s me! I’m all about enthusiastic help,” McCree agrees, snatching up his emergency pack from beneath his bed. “Now, send me your coordinates and let’s go find that idiot.”

 

* * *

 

The flight to the city is a quick one, thanks to Athena and Winston being adamant that McCree get Genji back as soon as possible. McCree is thrilled by the idea of everyone finding out about the impromptu rescue mission, though he nobly doesn’t say anymore than his drop-off coordinates in case anything goes wrong.

Winston even sends him along with a packed supper. The paper bag smells faintly of peanut butter. McCree smiles, charmed by the thoughtfulness. Blackwatch hadn’t been like this.

The meal gets stashed away for later, left in the airship as McCree hops out and onto the street. He signals for Athena to get going before the bullets start flying. Zenyatta is nowhere in sight so McCree walks around the block, keeping a safe distance from the main building that houses the anti-omnic fraction. It looks to be an office building still in use, not quite tall enough to be a skyscraper, but there is an insurance billboard on top of the roof, the happy face of human man flashing a slogan and number that McCree suspects is a more sinister code for something else.

Omnic trafficking has always been a problem, even after all these years. McCree is relieved both Zenyatta and Genji have gotten the trapped omnics out of the hideout, though apparently Genji had gotten captured in the process during the bust. According to Zenyatta’s report. Zenyatta had managed to escape at Genji’s insistence. Genji is, after all, not an omnic, and if anyone had to be captured, he would have been the better choice.

McCree glances at his wrist comm, waiting, but before he can call Zenyatta, he starts to hear a string of soft chimes in the air. He follows the random melody to a dark alleyway, the embers of his cigar flicking down his side.

“Bold choice of dramatics,” Zenyatta says, sitting cross-legged on the ground. His orbs swirl around his neck, dark for now. “They would have seen you.”

“Aw, let them know I’m here,” McCree says in good humor.

“You mean, let Genji know that you are here,” Zenyatta replies, amused. He stands up, tucking his legs under him to float in the air. “Usually it is very unbecoming to gloat, but it suits you well.”

McCree puts a hand over his chest, feigning hurt feelings. Genji had always spoke highly of Zenyatta, and prior to meeting him, McCree had assumed Zenyatta to be nothing but the wise and near-holy monk Genji painted him to be. And while he doesn’t doubt Zenyatta’s wealth of wisdom, McCree suspects Genji may have unintentionally turned a blind-eye to Zenyatta’s other less-than-saintly qualities.

Zenyatta waves an orb to hover over McCree’s head. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thrilled to be here,” McCree says, glancing up. He has only experienced the Harmony Orb once or twice in the heat of battle. The light is soothing. He squints against the glare. “Ain’t that… kinda bright?”

“You wanted the enemy to know that you were here, did you not?” Zenyatta says, serene. “I am happy to assist with that.”

McCree lets out a bark of laughter, the sound echoing through the alley. From the next building over, he can hear the doors start to open, the thump of boots, the harsh voices of the anti-omnic fraction starting to wake up from their hideout. They had seen him alright.

“That I did,” he concedes with the sudden realization of how Zenyatta might have bonded so well with Genji. “You’re some kinda asshole, you know that, right?”

Zenyatta laughs, sounding flattered. “Like often meets with like. It will be a pleasure working with you, Mr. McCree.”

McCree draws out his gun, winking as he does. “Likewise.”

 

* * *

 

They find Genji three floors underground, dangling from the ceiling and all trussed up in a spool of neon wires and hard light cuffs. McCree tries very hard not to look too gleeful as he slams his fist into the guard’s face. The guard drops to the ground, out cold with the rest of their friends. McCree can barely contain his excitement when he stares up at the Genji-shaped cocoon. This is more than what he had hoped for by tenfold.

“Master!” Genji says, genuinely happy and relieved to see Zenyatta at the doorway before the gaze of his visor drops down to McCree. His voice goes flat. “And you.”

“That’s right, sweet thing,” McCree says, throwing his serape to the side in an exaggerated gesture. He tips his hat for good measure. “Me, your knight in shining armor.”

Genji swings himself, restless. No doubt he would have given McCree the finger if his hands hadn’t been tired. “Shut the door and lock it again. I’m getting out _myself_.”

He proceeds to make a shooing motion, impressively done while being tied up. It must have taken ten people to wrestle Genji into those wires. McCree admires the effort.

Zenyatta hovers forward, head tilting upwards to stare at Genji.

“Genji, I do not mean to scold or lecture in such a dire situation, but we have spoken about the importance of honesty,” he says. “Mr. McCree has done an admirable service to us both.”

“I know, and I am being extremely honest right now; if McCree ends up rescuing me I will surely murder him the moment he sets me free,” Genji replies without hesitation.

McCree beams. “Sweetheart, I’m touched.”

“See, master? He likes it.”

“All knowledge is precious within the right circumstance, but I had no desire to know that,” Zenyatta says with a note of resignation. “Please, you two will be able to flirt at a more optimal level once we leave this place. McCree, if you will…?”

McCree has already made his way to the control panel at the side of the room. He sees several options presented before him, and the temptation of activating the mechanism that would make Genji plunge to the floor is enormous. “Oh, it will be my pleasure.”

Genji watches him with a wary eye. His wiggling starts to get more frantic and angry, all his cybernetic agility translating into vibrating in the air, sort of like a buzzing wasp. McCree thinks Genji might spin himself into one of those next-dimensions Lena occasionally gets herself stuck in.

“Master, please, do not let him carry me out. I can walk! Untie me first— _no!_ No!” Genji yells, the last word trailing off into a furious yelp when McCree pushes the right buttons and he drops over Zenyatta’s head.

Zenyatta floats several inches back. Genji’s falling body narrowly misses landing on him, clattering at his feet in a pile of rattling cyborg parts and flickering hard light ties.

McCree starts. For a moment, he almost feels bad. “Oh. I thought you were going to catch him.”

Zenyatta stares at McCree in what must be disbelief. “To trust blindly is to lack mindfulness of yourself.”

“McCree, the master does not even carry his own orbs if he can help it,” Genji says, face muffled into the ground.

“My arms are much too delicate, and my hands, dainty,” Zenyatta says, his words sounding more like an excuse than an explanation if McCree had been willing to argue it. He tosses a Harmony Orb to rest over Genji’s body, and now that McCree’s attention is drawn to it, he realizes that he has yet to see Zenyatta actually _touch_ the orbs circling around his neck.

McCree makes his way over to the pair, crouching on his heels to roll Genji on his stomach. The orb seems to do the trick of making Genji less wheezy in his breathing. He tugs at the hard light cuffs, frowning when the device doesn’t budge from Genji’s wrists.

“I was only teasing about carrying you, but it looks like it might actually have to be a thing I gotta do,” McCree says. His grin might be growing wider by the second.

Genji’s visor flashes. “Take off my helmet.”

McCree gets his fingers on one of clasps at the side of Genji’s head. Self-preservation keeps him from continuing. “Why?”

“To give my hero a kiss of appreciation,” Genji says, voice sweet like sugar.

“To bite my hand off, you mean.” McCree leans in, sliding his arms under Genji to scoop him up.

“ _And you would have deserved to lose it again_ ,” Genji hisses in Japanese, the rest of his protests cutting off when McCree maneuvers him over one shoulder to start.

McCree preens a little for being able to understand Genji’s string of threats, but Genji is a heavy thing to lift and sling across both shoulders so his smug retort gets filed away for later. With Genji tied up, going piggy-back is out of the question, and something like a bridal carry would leave McCree with both hands full and a sore back in less than a minute. He grunts, thankful that Genji at least has the common sense to hold still for the time being. They both know the moment Genji starts acting up, McCree has no qualms with dumping the cyborg to the ground.

“I will lead,” Zenyatta says with an air of someone who is bracing himself for a long journey ahead, which is funny—McCree is pretty sure they have eliminated a good majority of the anti-omnic fraction.

“We oughta get Genji’s weapons back,” McCree adds, still trying to adjust to carrying Genji’s weight. He nudges Genji with the back of his head. “Got any idea where they might be?”

There’s some amount of dissatisfied squirming around McCree’s back. “No.”

“Perhaps you can call out to them,” Zenyatta suggests.

“What,” says McCree, unaware that Genji had that kind of ability. He knows Genji is particular with his swords, protective in a way that McCree can relate to being with his own revolver. “Does that have anything to do with that dragon you sometimes—”

“I have GPS tracking on my swords. There’s a button on my back,” Genji interrupts. “And what dragon?”

McCree grunts. “Never you mind.”

With Genji’s tracking signal activated, they locate his weapons quickly enough on the next upper floor. The only problems are a couple more anti-omnic followers within the storage room. A quick peek around the corner reveals four of them playing around with Genji’s arsenal of shuriken and knives. Judging by the cursing and laughter about accidental cuts, McCree figures half the work is almost done for them. He ducks back, looking to Zenyatta for ideas.

Zenyatta says, “I have heard of a technique called _Get Help_.”

McCree brightens, lifting a fist to his mouth to cover his laugh. “Was that a movie reference?”

“I do enjoy the classics,” Zenyatta says, leaning forward. His headlights blink excitedly. “Do you watch the old Hollywood movies?”

“I do! We should exchange recommendations.”

Meanwhile, Genji looks like all his worst nightmares have come true. “What’s… Get Help?” he asks, resigned.

McCree and Zenyatta glance at each other. McCree grins, and while Zenyatta lacks any kind of facial muscle, he gets the feeling the monk is doing the exact same thing.

 

* * *

 

Get Help goes as smoothly as McCree had predicted it would. After a stunning performance of crying for help to the room, he hurls Genji into the anti-omnic group after spending some time debating if he should swing the cyborg like Reinhardt’s hammer, but by then Genji has shouted out some indecipherable Japanese profanity that blows their cover on purpose.

Zenyatta lets out a couple of energy bursts that stuns the majority of the crew, and McCree shoots the ones that Genji has landed on. Now that his hands are free, McCree takes the time to stretch out his back. Carrying Genji up a flight of stairs had been a struggle, despite Zenyatta’s pleasantly worded yet useless encouragement.

They search the rest of the room, reuniting Genji with his weapons. Of course, Genji doesn’t have the hands to take them back, which leaves the three of them pondering for some time. McCree is reluctant to start carrying Genji again, and Genji is beginning to sound miserable in his restraints. Not that he had been miserable before, but his body starts to take an exhausted slouch against the wall.

Zenyatta rustles around the storage room some more, using his hovering ability to check the higher shelves. He makes an inquisitive noise, reaching out to grab an intricate-looking gun with three prongs. McCree is just amazed Zenyatta had picked up anything at all with his own two hands.

“This appears to be a hard light generator,” Zenyatta says, handing the device over to McCree.

“I guess,” McCree says, dubious. He doesn’t really know much about hard light, other than its weaponizing effects. The gun looks like it’d be painful if anything got within its crosshairs. He hands it back to Zenyatta.

Zenyatta seems just as reluctant to use it. He floats down to Genji’s level, presenting it to the dismayed cyborg.

“Perhaps if you offered a quote about optimism,” Genji says, and it's as close as McCree has ever heard Genji being sarcastic towards Zenyatta.

Zenyatta fires the gun without saying anything, which seems like a fair enough answer. Genji physically recoils, curling up in a ball, but he doesn’t make a sound.

The hard light threads wink off around his body, disappearing in a crackle of shifting square particles. Genji looks down at his freed hands.

All three of them stare at each other, amazed, but Zenyatta especially.

“Great,” McCree says, relieved. He helps Genji to his feet, though he allows Genji to grab his own weapons first. His arm settles itself around Genji’s waist as the other man does a quick inspection of his outer cybernetics.

“I will be alright,” Genji says, nodding, and McCree lets go of his waist. He clips his sword back behind him, posture more relaxed. The harmony orb still hovers over his head, proof that Zenyatta is still keeping a close eye on him. “This is going better than expected.”

McCree scoffs. “Don’t you doubt me,” he begins before he glances at Zenyatta, clearing his throat and amending, “I mean, _us_.”

Zenyatta tilts his head, amused. “I do not think he has ever doubted you in anything.”

Genji doesn’t say anything, only muttering under his breath, and shoves past them to take point.

 

* * *

 

They exit the building by going the same way they came in—by using the main revolving doors. This has two consequences, one being that they run into the local law enforcement and the other being McCree is by all accounts a criminal on the run. He cannot afford to be seen, much less caught.

They go back into the building’s ruined lobby, though most of the mess had been from McCree and Zenyatta when they had first stormed into the hideout. McCree rubs his temples while he hides behind an unturned table. Winston is going to be so disappointed in him, which is a ridiculous feeling to harbor towards someone roughly ten years his junior.

“Do not worry, Mr. McCree,” Zenyatta says, hunkering down next to him. “I feel the Iris watching us very carefully now.”

Genji is not with them, attempting to draw attention away from the main entrance by flitting in and out of sight. McCree can hear bullets pinging against Genji’s sword, though by some silent agreement, they have decided not to injure of the officers.

A stray bullet ricochets off McCree’s table, splintering all over them. McCree feels the cuts across his cheek, and Zenyatta’s parts are starting to look more like wooden chips than metal. They dive towards a potted plant and a couch.

“Looks like the Iris might’ve blinked,” McCree says dryly.

Zenyatta’s lights flicker, but before he can answer, Genji drops down in front of them. His sword flashes in the dark, a wavering sheen of green flicking along the edge.

“It will only be a moment longer,” Genji tells them. He turns to McCree. “There are ten of them. I can disarm four. That would leave the last six to you.”

“Oh honey, you know I can handle six any day of the week,” McCree says, closing his eyes to imagine all the possible places to injure but not outright kill. He opens his eyes. “I would need someone cover me though.”

Zenyatta raises his hand as if answering an unasked question. “You can leave that to me.”

Genji looks between the two of them.

“ _Now_ I am enjoying this,” he says.

 

* * *

 

McCree wakes up with his head in Genji’s lap and a view of the aircraft’s ceiling. He blinks, unmoving as bits and pieces of the rescue comes back to him. He remembers leaping out from his hiding spot to shoot Peacekeeper precisely six times, Zenyatta shining bright like a beacon, and Genji’s sword flashing green. Maybe it had been overconfidence on his part, but McCree thinks it might have been a mistake to forego his sixth target in favor of aiming for the officer who had his gun trained at Genji’s unprotected back. He remembers Genji not being pleased when McCree had found some shrapnel at his side, but Zenyatta had given him a turn with the Harmony Orb until McCree felt comfortable enough to pass out.

“I thought this was gonna end the other way around,” McCree admits, looking up at Genji. He rubs his eyes, wincing when the left side of his chest twinges. So _that’s_ where the other bullet went.

They are on the aircraft’s couch together, the deep whirring of the engine giving away their speed and altitude. From McCree’s expert knowledge, Athena is taking them very high up, and going very fast.

Genji glances down at him, faceplate off to reveal a crooked smile. He has a half-eaten peanut butter and banana sandwich in one hand while the other rests over McCree’s forehead.

“It was very thoughtful of you to keep the score even,” he says, taking another bite of the sandwich. “The rescue was commendable.”

There are breadcrumbs in McCree’s hair. He can smell the peanut butter on Genji’s breath. “So it’s another tie.”

“I’m afraid so,” Genji replies gravely after a somewhat sticky swallow. He reaches for something on the table that McCree can’t see. It turns out to be a small juice box, and Genji takes a noisy sip from the straw. “Sorry. I hadn’t eaten for two days. Did Winston pack this? He is always so considerate.”

McCree snorts, but he turns his head to Genji’s stomach. It’s not the softest of places, especially with the armor still on, but he buries his face into the plate and makes do.

“Where’s Zenyatta?” McCree eventually asks, his hand stopping short of reaching for Genji.

“Athena dropped him off to help with the other omnics we saved,” Genji says, grinning and setting aside the sandwich. “He was very tactful. I was in... an anxious mood when you had gotten shot.”

“Coulda fooled me,” says McCree, laughing quietly to not upset his wound. Zenyatta had done a good enough job getting him patched up, but McCree already knows he’s going to be sore for the next couple of hours. He grunts when Genji starts shifting his head to look up at him. McCree obliges by turning on his back, but he gives Genji a wary glance. “What?”

Genji raises an eyebrow, lips pursed in an exasperated line. “I was going to give my hero a kiss of appreciation.”

McCree squints, but he can’t help but lift himself up on his elbows. “You’re not gonna bite my hand off, are you?”

Genji shakes his head, arm tightening to steady his hold.

“No,” he tells McCree, and leans in to brush his mouth against McCree’s.

 


End file.
